


The Sithy Bunch

by Cinlat, Keirra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Family, Just lots of fluff, Love, M/M, No Love Triangle, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Parenthood, Polyamory, Sithy fluff, no jealousy, respect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirra/pseuds/Keirra
Summary: Arranged marriages between Sith can be deadly but for Tuathal and Ma’at it’s the beginning of a life filled with love and mutual respect. Neither could have expected that this arrangement would eventually lead to them commanding the most powerful empire in the galaxy or creating their own large, living family.*Posted in no particular order after the first, three chapters. Timelines are for the weak.





	1. Arranged Marriage?

**Author's Note:**

> Ma'at is a slave to her family name, while Tuathal must learn a world that he's never been a part of. These drabbles are an AU loosely based on the SI & SW storyline. We've chosen to focus on the parts integral to our vision of what a loving, Sith family might represent. Mostly, it's all fluff and love, with very little negativity.

“This is not new, my dear.” Ma’at’s mother leaned across the desk to pat her hand. It was a warm gesture, far more maternal than the still budding Sith was used to from her mother. “It only feels like it.”

“What do you mean?” Ma’at asked, then cringed when her mother withdrew and sighed. Ma’at held no doubt that her parents loved their children, even if she didn’t always understand how they showed it. Theirs was a formidable Sith family who could trace their lineage back through the centuries. The number of Force-sensitives produced from Ma’at’s family rivaled that of most. 

When mother pinned Ma’at with a peeved glare, the young Sith fought the urge to wiggle in her seat. “Our house is coveted among the others. Your sisters have already met their future husbands, and you will go to yours with the same dignity.”

Ma’at almost snorted. Her second oldest sibling had thrown a fit that shook the walls of their home. She’d sneered at her husband to be, then nearly killed him when the boy had the gall to ask why she was so cross. Now, they had two children of their own, and still spewed death threats at one another daily. 

A chill ran the length of Ma’at’s spine. “What if we don’t like each other?”

Mother scribbled a signature, set it aside, then looked back at Ma’at. “Then you do your duty, and live in a separate house when it suits you.” Ma’at winced, and mother sighed again. “Tuathal Technar is from a good family. Though no strong in the Force, their household is known throughout every branch of our military.” 

Ma’at didn’t want to marry a soldier. She wanted to heal, not destroy. Though, that appeared to be where her talent lay at the moment. Ma’at was determined to turn her ability to siphon life forces into one that could give it. Shoulders hunched in resignation, Ma’at gave in to the inevitable. Seldom did her parents present such a united front. She could not stop this. “He’s not old, is he?”

Mother chuckled. It was a deep, feral sound that startled Ma’at into sitting up straight. “No, little one. He is close to your age.” Ma’at didn’t understand her mother’s amusement at the question, and wasn’t given the chance to ask. “Besides, neither family expects the contract to be fulfilled until you’ve both reached the title of Sith. Now, I have work to do, ready yourself for dinner.”

“Yes, mother,” Ma’at answered, finding no room in her cramped stomach for food. She momentarily considered slacking on her lessons to postpone the unwanted marriage for as long as possible, but discarded that idea immediately. No. Regardless of her view on the politics of Dromund Kass, Ma'at was Sith. Her sisters had made sacrifices for their family, now, it was her turn. Ma’at only hoped that Tuathal liked her. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.


	2. Acceptance

Tuathal stared at the datapad in his hand. He knew he should go inform his parents of the letter he had received, the long-awaited acceptance to the academy on Korriban. He had worked so hard for this, ever since learning that the odd things he had noticed growing up were in fact signs of Force sensitivity.

Prior to that revelation he had been on a fast track to a promising military career. With his family’s record of service, it was only proper he be enrolled in the best schools and as the son of a Colonel and the grandson of a General his marks had to be at the top of his class. Nothing less was acceptable.

Now he had to catch up to the others, the ones who had always known this was their path and had the advantage of being from a long line of Sith Lords.

Looking at the confirmation that in a few weeks’ time he would officially be trading in his military cadet uniform for Sith robes he felt a bit queasy. Tuathal liked plans, he liked order, and this Force nonsense had thrown everything in his life into chaos.

His sudden change in station had been welcome news to his family, everyone was very proud to finally have a Sith in the family. First ever in the bloodlines on either side at that.

“And to think,” he said, “I thought I had a lot on my shoulders before.”

The expectations of his entire family rested firmly with him. Before it was to have a grand career in the military, now he was expected to thrive in the Empire’s Sith hierarchy. Even his future relationships were dictated by his responsibilities. His mother had wasted no time finding an eligible young woman from a prominent Sith family to arrange a marriage with. The hope being, of course, that any children between them would be Sith as well.

“It’s a new age for the Techtmar family,” his mother had declared when she informed him of what she had done, depriving him of one of the few things he would before have been allowed a measure of control over, “one you will usher in my love.” Then, with a quick kiss to his cheek, she had swept out of his room muttering about the wardrobe he was going to need.

Becoming a Sith didn’t change the fact he needed to make the best impression possible. It wouldn’t do for a son of the Techtmar family to be seen in anything less than high Kaas city fashion. This was nothing new, it just felt like it.

Taking a deep breath, Tuathal stood up and smoothed out the creases in his clothing. Putting off showing the letter to his parents much longer wouldn’t do. His father had a laser eye for details and would no doubt notice the timestamp on the message. That in turn would annoy his mother, who fussed that he wasn’t taking this seriously enough. As if he was ever anything but serious.

He hadn’t planned on being a Sith Lord but with the same determination that he approached everything in life he intended on being the best.

Even if it killed him.


	3. Serendipitous Encounters (Ma'at/Tully)

I.

Tuathal was tired of the color red. He had liked it well enough before coming to Korriban, but after the first few weeks, he could happily never see the color again. It was inescapable, from the Imperial logos that adorned almost every wall in the academy, to the very rock and soil of the planet. It didn’t help that the only other color in abundance on Korriban was a dull, durasteel grey. Even most of his fellow acolytes wore a mixture of the two colors. Tuathal clung stubbornly to black, feeling the color was more refined and fitting of his new position even if it was impossible to keep from being coated in a light layer of reddish dust.   


Tuathal hadn’t been raised to be a Sith Lord, but it was his birthright by a fluke of genetics, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to look the part. It just confirmed that even after all this time, he was his mother’s son.   


It was the white of her skirt that Tuathal noticed first, drawing his attention to the top of the staircase. She was lovely; dark skin and striking eyes, the kind Tuathal knew he would never forget. He had barely noticed the woman before she tripped, teetering dangerously towards rolling down the stairs.   


Moving quickly, Tuathal leapt up several stairs to catch the woman in his arms. His momentum stopped her fall before she could be seriously hurt. Once Tuathal was sure the woman could stand, he let go of her to brush long, black hair out of her face. The woman’s eyes were wide, and he could almost guess what she thought was coming. Most acolytes weren’t known for acts of kindness.   


“Are you alright?”   


The woman nodded, her luscious lips curving into a smile before parting to speak.   


“Acolyte!” Tremel’s voice cut her off. Tuathal looked up to see the overseer staring down at him, obviously annoyed at the delay, and had to stop himself from sighing. Of course, the old man would interrupt a chance meeting with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.   


Shooting her an apologetic smile, accompanied by a sharp nod, Tuathal stepped around the woman and continued up the stairs. It was probably for the best. His mother had already arranged his marriage, and it was his intent to honor that contract to his future wife.

It was best for everyone that he didn’t look back. 

Ma’at’s heart still raced long after the handsome stranger had followed the overseer into a corridor above her. She sat down on the steps in an attempt to get her breathing under control. Between the adrenaline of falling, and the memory of his arms around her, Ma’at needed a moment.    


He’d been so handsome, enough so that ‘pretty’ was almost a better word. If not for the cleft in his chin, combined with the depth of his voice, her mystery savior would look almost feminine. Ma’at smiled at the memory of the kindness in his words, something she had hardly expected to find in the heart of a Sith Academy.    


Ma’at sighed, standing to smooth out her skirt. As much as she wanted to stay and daydream about the handsome stranger, she had a class to attend. Ma’at almost wished that she had gotten hurt in her fall, just enough to excuse her from lightsaber classes. A lot of the training she enjoyed, but physical combat was her most challenging subject.    


Thinking back to the feel of strong arms around her, and the firm chest she had landed against, Ma’at was willing to bet her stranger was no slouch when it came to the more physical side of his training. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to meet him again, to get to know him. Despite her upbringing as the daughter of two powerful Sith Lords, Ma’at was a romantic. The idea of falling in love with a handsome man like him appealed to her greatly.    


Until Ma’at remembered that it didn’t matter if she fell in love or not, her future had already been decided for her. Tuathal Techtmar, that was her future.    


Not for the first time, Ma’at wished that she knew more about him. All Ma’at’s mother had told her was that Tuathal was Force sensitive, but from a military family, and that he wasn’t much older than her. He could be any of the upperclassmen at the academy. She could pass him in the hallway and never know. Ma’at looked up in time to lock eyes with the red gaze of a pale acolyte who bared his teeth in a lascivious grin. She shivered and hugged the wall.   


Tuathal could even be the one that just caught her. Ma’at laughed at the wistful way she held to such an impossible fairy tale. She’d never been terribly lucky, her clumsiness in front of the most handsome man she had ever seen was proof of that. 

Ma’at shook her head. It would take a lifetime’s worth of luck for  _ that _ man to be her betrothed.    
  


III. 

Tuathal felt like he had been hit by a speeder. Fighting the dark beast Tremel had sent him to summon had been much harder than he expected. Really something that big shouldn’t move so fast.    


Through sheer willpower alone, he had survived, and the beast did not. It took all of his strength to keep his feet as he made for the exit of the ruins. Tuathal refused to show weakness, not here where the other students were more like wild beasts – each desperately sniffing for a sign of vulnerability to take advantage of.    


Though, at this hour, it might not matter much. It was late, far later than Tuathal had ever returned to the academy before, and there was no one around. He was sure there would be guards up at the door, as always, but most acolytes should be in bed.   


As Tuathal walked across the deserted courtyard, he decided to savor the clear night a little longer. In the moonlight, the annoying redness of Korriban was muted, and the stillness in the air soothed him. The only sounds were the distant chittering of Klor’slugs that the newest acolytes had yet to dispatch. It was something of an initiation all the overseers were fans of, sending the newest students into the tombs to face the never ending hordes of beasts.    


Someday they would be extinct if this kept up, but Tuathal couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when he had a four inch scar on his calf as a reminder of his first day on Korriban.    


Movement and a flash of light around the corner of the academy building caught Tuathal’s eye, and he stopped short. He hadn’t seen or sensed anyone until now and, despite knowing it wasn’t his business, grew curious.    


Taking care not to make any noise, Tuathal approached the corner where he had spotted the flash of light. He leaned around, then smiled.    


It was her. The woman Tuathal had caught on the stairs. The one who had haunted his dreams. It was those eyes, molten gold and warm. He was still annoyed that Tremel had cut her off, depriving him of the sound of her voice. Tuathal knew it was pointless to think of her, but he couldn’t help but wonder if her voice would be melodic and light, or a more sultry husk.    


She looked lovely in the moonlight. Her mostly white outfit glowed in the darkness, giving her an ethereal quality. Like she was something unreal, unattainable and, as far as Tuathal was concerned, she was.    


That didn’t stop Tuathal from enjoying the sight of her. He was just close enough to see the smile on her face as she stared  up at the stars. Tuathal followed her gaze, wondering if there was something unusual up there to bring her such joy, but all he saw were the stars. Not the same ones from home; no familiar constellations, nothing remarkable.    


Before Tuathal dropped his focus back to the woman, he saw a star streak across the sky. He watched her, wondering if she saw it too, and was surprised to find her head bowed with hands clasped in front of her chest. It took Tuathal a moment to realize what she was doing, to remember the song his mother used to sing.    


_ See a falling star and count yourself lucky,  _ __  
_ make a wish that will come true.  _ __  
_ See a falling star and know that you are lucky.  _ __  
__ Know that mommy does love you.    


This sweet lady was wishing on the star. Tuathal wasn’t much of a wisher himself, he believed more in the power of his own actions. Tuathal couldn’t begin to guess what she hoped for, this beautiful, mysterious woman, but he closed his eyes did something he hadn’t done since he was a child. He made a wish.    


A heartfelt desire that _ her’s _ would come true. 

Ma’at cringed as she tugged more Klor’slug goo from her hair. Her back ached, she smelled like the back end of a sarlacc, and no doubt Overseer Harkun would be displeased with how long it took to collect that damned holocron. 

Sighing, Ma’at exited the speeder and left it with the valee. She should go directly to Harkun, but preferred a warm shower to offset the cold, dry air. Perhaps a jacket would be in order after all, especially when returning so close to sunset. Ma’at preferred the freedom of movement, however, and her vanity demanded revealing clothing. While she might not be the most adept Sith, Ma’at knew that she was attractive. It was the only thing she currently had working in her favor. That, and a formidable family name.

Ma’at had just reached the bottom of the ramp when she remembered the holocron on the speeder’s seat. With a curse that would have gotten her backhanded at home, Ma’at turned back for her prize. Then froze in her tracks.

For weeks, those kind, green eyes of a handsome stranger haunted Ma’at’s minimum free time. He had even crept into her dreams on occasion. Those were good nights indeed, though she dared not dwell on them in the presence of other Force users. Ma’at hadn’t expected to see the man who’d leapt to her rescue on that embarrassing day again. The Academy was large, and he no doubt out classed her judging by the master he answered to. Yet, there he was, fighting beasties just like her.

Smelly though she may be, Ma’at started to follow. Surely their second meeting was a sign that she should at least thank him for the assistance he’d rendered. The presence of entrails on her armor might even serve to gain his approval. From what Ma’at knew of Sith from her countless years in the citadel was that the men craved strong women. Her current target needn’t know that Ma’at had stumbled into that mess, and the death blow had been accidental. No, she’d present a fierce warrior and perhaps learn his name.

Ma’at followed at a brisk pace, finding the man’s longer stride troublesome to overtake. His black coat billowed in the wake of a confident gait that she would never master. Perhaps her own husband would be as strong; produce sturdy children for her to lavish with the love her father showered on her. It was best case scenario as far as Ma’at was concerned.

Turning into the corner, Ma’at found her stranger in the midst of an open plateau. He carefully draped the jacket over a rock, then removed his shirt to reveal a physique born of a warrior. Courage fled the instant Ma’at saw the dusting of dark hair over hard muscles. She stood rooted in place and gaped at a man who couldn’t be real. 

As if sensing her presence, the man looked towards where Ma’at stood stupidly. She spun out of sight and prayed that he hadn’t spotted her. This was a terrible idea. Ma’at was pledged to another man, one she planned to be faithful to. She had no business ogling other men. Ma’at should collect her holocron, return to Overseer Harkun, then wash the filth from her body and forget this moment ever happened.

With a shy glance over her shoulder, Ma’at sighed. It was a shame that her morals should rob her of such an enticing sight. Perhaps her stranger would visit again in her dreams, sans shirt. That brought a smile back to Ma’at’s face. After all, dreams never hurt anyone, right?

Tuathal followed the sounds of battle deeper into the cavern. He’d spoken to the soldier at the front entrance and sighed at her request. She’d asked another Sith for aid in retrieving the badge of a friend, yet feared the woman might be in over her head. 

It wasn’t in Tuathal’s nature to rush to the aid of other Sith. In his time on Korriban, he’d learned that the soldier’s creed of brotherhood did not extend to the Academy. On Korriban, acolytes walked over the bones of their fellows to achieve a higher position. It was something Tuathal wanted nothing to do with. 

While still proud of his Force sensitivity, Tuathal longed for the war stories of his father and grandfather. Of watching the other man’s back and knowing someone had his. That was not the life of a Sith, and Tuathal had learned to stay well away from the others.

The crack of Sith lightning echoed off the cave walls, permeating the air with the iconic ozone of chard flesh. Tuathal would have left the woman alone, they were only Klor’slugs, after all, had it not been  _ her _ .

Pausing in the shadows, Tuathal watched as the lady in white stood astride the dead body of the soldier’s friend. She held her lightsaber in an awkward grip and relied heavily on her control of the Force to drive the creatures back. 

The pale blade made the white of her armor glow all the more, and Tuathal couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the tanned expanse of flesh exposed when she spun to confront another beast coming from behind. It wasn’t until she crouched lower, long skirt fanning out over the body, that he realized she was about to be overrun.

Tuathal leapt into the fray before his mind caught up to his body. The woman let out a small squeak, golden eyes wide as she looked up at him. “Do you have what you need?” 

“Almost.” That one word washed over Tuathal even as he turned to confront the Klor’slug who rushed them. Her voice was calm despite the fear in her eyes, with a song like quality that made him want to request more. But, this wasn’t the time. 

“Go then, I’ll cover your retreat.” Tuathal dispatched the creature that crawled over its peer. He looked behind him to find the woman staring; saw the suspicion in those dazzling eyes. “Go,” he ordered in a kinder tone.

Throwing a hand out, the woman send an arc of lightning so close to Tuathal that the hair on his arms stood on end. Expecting betrayal, he started to round on her until he smelled the smoking remains of a smaller slug at his feet. 

“Thank you,” the woman breathed before gathering her skirts and rushing back towards the exit. Tuathal wanted to watch her go, but he had more pressing matters to deal with. Perhaps, he could catch her back at the Academy, at least learn the name of the mysterious woman who flitted in and out of his life with such ease. 

Or perhaps this would truly be the last time he saw her. The woman was no warrior, and it was only a matter of time before a cruel fate deprived the galaxy of another beautiful thing.

Ma’at was finally in her element. She’d been tasked to translate tablets containing a dead language. Overseer Harkun thought it to be an impossible task, but Ma’at lived for this sort of work. She’d much rather be an archaeologist than Sith any day. Alas, the universe had other plans for her.

With artifacts in hand, Ma’at picked her way along the sharp angles of the Academy towards the library. She knew the path by heart, and didn’t bother looking up. It was late enough that most acolytes were in their dorms for the night, or in each others, as was the case of the girl Ma’at roomed with. 

The library had become Ma’at’s haven from the continuous parade of men who trapsed in and out of her small home. She’d taken to keeping all of her valuables in a sealed trunk that not even a Force user could get into, and had learned to ignore their probing leers. 

The door to the library slid open on silent hydraulics, and Ma’at reached out with the Force on instinct to check how many occupied the room. She’d learned to do that after another student was found murdered in one of the more secluded alcoves, and vowed to never allow herself to feel safe. Given the time, Ma’at wasn’t surprised to only feel the presence of one other person.

Seating herself on the opposite side of the room, Ma’at spread the tablets out and considered the runes. She recognized two as being old Outer Rim languages. There were plenty of books about them, but it was the ancient Sith that had brought her to this part of the Academy. 

Thumbing through the libraries archive, Ma’at located the shelf where her desired information should reside, and made for it with a haste brought on my excitement. After winding through the aisles and checking various other places the data could have been accidently placed, Ma’at folded her arms with an annoyed huff. The book, a proper, hide bound account of ancient Sith society, wasn’t listed as checked out. Which meant that someone had either stolen it, or left it lying about with the scattered messes on the tables.

With a deep breath, Ma’at began to search through the scrolls and books left behind until she neared the presence she’d sensed earlier. They hadn’t moved, and Ma’at hoped that meant they were asleep. She had no desire to see another Sith, especially not one who might be fatigued. As Ma’at approached, a heavy sigh alerted her to the fact that her peer was, most certainly, awake. 

Ma’at peeked around the corner, then held her breath. It was  _ him _ , the man who came to her rescue in the cave. A powerful Sith who had twice shown her kindness without demanding anything in return. His handsome face was marred by dark circles this time, with hair sticking up from where fingers had raked through it. Ma’at wondered what could frustrate a man who so clearly had everything well in hand.

The man’s eyes snapped up, startling Ma’at with the intensity in their vivid, green depths. A moment later, they softened. “Evening.”

A shiver ran the length of Ma’at’s spine. She could listen to that deep voice recite the weather and never grow tired of it. “Hello again.”

Sitting back to fold impressive arms across his chest, the man smirked. “You’re up late. What brings you here?”

Ma’at swallowed. It was the longest conversation to date, and she was already enchanted. “Research, you?”

“Same,” the man answered with a pointed look at Ma’at’s empty hands. “Having trouble locating your resources?”

Suddenly aware that she didn’t know what to do with herself while under such scrutiny, Ma’at clasped her hands in front of her stomach and nodded. “I’m looking for a book on Ancient Sith. You haven’t seen one lying around, have you?”

The edges of his lips quirked. “I believe I have.” Ma’at’s heart lightened until he pushed the tome he’d been studying towards her. “Is that it?”

Placing her palms against the table, Ma’at read the title upside down. “I’m afraid so.” She met her stranger’s gaze again and tried to keep her voice from wavering. “Do you study dead languages too?”

“I’m more interested in their battle techniques,” the man answered as he reached for the richly embroidered coat on the chair to his right. “But, they have not divulged any secrets to me tonight. You’re welcome to it.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Ma’at stated as she cradled the book to her chest and stepped away from the table. Being so close to him for the first time, Ma’at realized how tall he was. While breathtaking, her stranger was terribly intimidating up close. 

The man shook his head while slipping into the jacket. “No worries, I’ve reached the limit of what they can teach me. Perhaps you will have better luck.” He hesitated, holding Ma’at’s gaze as if to say more, before offering a kind smile. “Be careful, and have a good night.”

With that, the man strode around the shelf and vanished within the aisles of datacrons and tablets. Ma’at didn’t breathe again until his boots had drifted from sound. When she felt his presence recede completely, Ma’at looked down at the datapad in her hands. “I wonder what he was looking for in this?”

Ma’at felt a strange sense of sadness that her stranger had left empty handed, and that he looked so exhausted. Had she not been so dumbstruck, perhaps Ma’at could have even offered to help.  _ Don’t be silly, girl, _ her mother’s words echoed in the back of Ma’at’s mind. _ In this game, you take every advantage. No mercy, ever. _

While Ma’at had discovered her mother’s final warning to be true, she hated the thought of leaving anyone at a disadvantage. Besides, her stranger had helped Ma’at, it was only right that she return the favor if possible. She owed that man a debt. Ma’at always paid her debts.

VII. 

Peace wasn’t something Tuathal found easily at the Sith academy. With the general miasma of darkness and corruption in the air, finding somewhere to try and meditate, strengthen his tenuous connection to the Force, was difficult. It had taken him almost a year to find this spot, tucked away in the lower levels of the academy.    
  
Tuathal tried to spend as much time down there as he could. He was painfully aware that compared to other acolytes, he was at a disadvantage. Most came from at least one Sith parent, and had a head start on this Force stuff. Those without that advantage were rarely pulled from the primary academies on Ziost or Dromund Kaas the way he had been. Tremel assured Tuathal that his natural affinity was enough to make up for the lack of experience, but he was still skeptical. Tuathal had to study and train harder than the others just to keep pace.   
  
The physical side was easy, Tuathal had always been athletic, and applying that to his new combat training had been a smooth transition. It was the mystical side that he struggled with. Meditation was by far his weakest skill. Even in the quietest part of the academy, he was too easily distracted. 

Trying to relax and clear his mind enough to connect to the Force, Tuathal remained acutely aware that Vemrin and his cronies were still gunning for him . He didn’t think anyone had seen him come down here before, but could never be sure how safe he was.    
  
What Tuathal was sure of, was that he would never prove himself worthy of the position as Darth Baras' apprentice if he couldn't do something as simple as connect with the Force.   
  
"You're trying too hard."  
  
Tuathal’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up to see _her_ standing near the doorway. The woman who had been on the edge of his thoughts since he had seen her in the moonlight. Hearing her voice, melodic and lyrical when they met in the cavern had only intensified his infatuation with her. He couldn’t admit to his attraction out loud, but that's what it was.   
  
She had bewitched him, with her beauty and sweet smile, and she could never know it.   
  
Tuathal had to force his attention to the matter at hand. "Excuse me?"  
  
The lady in white clasped delicate hands in front of her bare stomach, mimicking her posture from their last encounter. "You're trying to meditate right? Trying to connect with the Force?"   
  
Tuathal nodded his understanding.   
  
"You can't force it," she said, smiling at the unintentional pun.   
  
Tuathal sighed and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. She was right, of course. He was so distracted by everything expected of him that, he couldn't manage it.   
  
The rustling of fabric made Tuathal open his eyes in time to see her sitting down on the floor next to him. Before he could ask what she was doing, a beautiful smile curved her lips, and the question caught in his throat.   
  
"You need to relax," she offered gently before lifting her shoulders and rolling them. Tuathal forced his focus to remain on her face instead of following the movement in a direction his attention might not be appreciated. "And, release the tension in your back. You look pretty high strung."  
  
Tuathal took a deep breath and let his shoulders and back relax.   
  
"Good, now don't try too hard to clear your mind. People tend to assume meditation is about clearing your mind and not thinking of anything, but that's not true."  
  
"Then, what is?" Tuathal was fascinated by the way she had slipped into a teaching mode. Her voice was soft as she relayed her instructions, the sound of it putting him more at ease than his earlier attempts combined.   
  
“You find something to focus on, something to be your touchstone; like your breathing, or an outside sound, music maybe, or you can imagine something to focus on.” She paused, smiling softly, “personally I like the stars, they are peaceful.”  
  
That made enough sense to Tuathal, something to focus on instead of clearing his mind. That was already more advice than any instructor had ever given him on meditation. "And, then what?"   
  
“Just focus on your touchstone and breathe deep even breaths. If your mind wanders, don’t get discouraged. Acknowledge those thoughts, then set them aside. The more you relax, the easier it will be to commune with the Force.”  
  
Following her instructions, Tuathal closed his eyes and pictured the stars. Not just any stars, not the familiar ones of his childhood, but the ones he had gazed at with her not long ago. Tuathal lost himself in the memory of the chill in the air, the soft wind that was blowing that night, her glowing presence in the corner of his sight. Focusing on that moment brought him the peace that had been so elusive before.  
  
_There._   
  
The pure power of the Force surrounded him, filling his body with a wave of adrenaline as his senses stretched out around him. He could feel the stillness in the room, the flurries of activity above them, and her. Like that night under the stars, she glowed with a pure white light that drew him in like the song of a _Mari Morgan_ \- a siren with direct aim at his heart.   
  
"Damn," she hissed, drawing him out of his trance. Tuathal blinked his eyes open just in time to see her smoothing out her skirt above him. Noticing his eyes on her, she met his gaze and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm late."  
  
Before Tuathal could respond, she was gone, sweeping out of the room with a swish of long skirts, and leaving him alone again. He could still sense her, distantly and growing more so, and when she disappeared completely from his awareness, Tuathal felt a deep sense of loss. He knew precious little about her, and if he was free to choose his own future, would be determined to learn everything he could.   
  
As it was, Tuathal needed to find a way to put the lady in white out of his mind, because he was dangerously close to being too attached to a woman he could never have.  
  


VIII.

Ma’at turned a pirouette and dodged right, followed by a lunge left that tangled her feet. The air rushed from Ma’at’s lungs when she struck the temple floor, and she sighed. At this rate, Ma’at wouldn’t survive much longer without allies, and she wasn’t ready to make those kinds of sacrifices yet. 

“You’re overextending.”

With forehead still pressed into the dirt, Ma’at slowly turned towards the voice that haunted her fantasies. Her dark stranger leaned against the wall with head tilted. Ma’at squeezed her eyes shut, mortified that he’d seen her fall. 

Pushing to her knees, Ma’at brushed the dust from her skirt. “How long had you been watching?”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “I could help with that.” It wasn’t an answer, but told Ma’at what she needed to know.

Ma’at scrambled to her feet with a hand on the hilt of her lightsaber. She knew better than to take the aid of other Sith. Ma’at had survived this long by avoiding contact with her peers as much as possible. “I’ll be fine, just an off day,” she assured the man.

With an unconvinced raise of his brow, the stranger stepped into the side room that Ma’at used to practice her forms in private. She’d found it two years ago, and no one had stumbled upon her hiding spot in that time. How strange that this man should be the one to do so. 

Keeping his hands visible, the man continued. “I mean you no harm. Only wish to repay the favor you showed me.”

Ma’at paused. She’d stumbled across his struggle to focus the Force a week earlier and offered simple words to help him better understand how it worked. If he was repaying a debt, Ma’at could accept that. It was charity that she didn’t trust. The goodwill of a Sith was always poisoned with selfish motivations. 

When Ma’at nodded, he shucked his heavy coat to lay aside. She swallowed, wondering if the shirt would follow. When he faced her again, Ma’at couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. “Would you tell me your name?”

Taking a step back, Ma’at shook her head with what she hoped was a coy smile. “Where would the fun be in that?” More to the point, this man knew her weakness. He held a dangerous power over her now, one that could result in death should he feel the need to spread word of Ma’at’s ineptitude with a saber. Not to mention, it would be more difficult to blackmail her if all he had was a description.

“True enough,” the man answered, then gave a light bow. “I am Tully.”

Ma’at’s smile widened. “An interesting name.” Most likely fake, but somehow the word suited him. “But, I like it.”

“I’m pleased,” Tully countered, then unhooked the saber at his belt. “I suggest we begin slowly so that I can get a better feel for your style.”

Fear tightened Ma’at’s stomach, but she forced it aside in the hopes that she would learn something before having to part ways with this,  _ Tully _ . He could have killed her long before now, had he wished, and they were not direct competitors. Maybe he really did wish only to repay her in kind. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d aided her.

Activating her blade, Ma’at took up stance opposite of Tully. They circled one another, blades touching in a slow rhythm that barely sparked. “You’re grip is too tight,” Tully remarked, tapping his weapon against hers with enough force to jar her. “The lightsaber should be an extension of your arm.”

“So,” Ma’at dodged Tully’s next strike without tripping. “Like really long fingers?”

Tully startled Ma’at with a deep chuckle. “Something like that, let me show you.”

Before his words registered, Tully deactivated his blade to stand behind Ma’at. The leather of his glove felt cool against her skin when he put a hand on her side for support. The other slid down her bare arm to wrap around her hand. “Feel the pressure of my fingers on yours, then match it on the hilt.”

Ma’at tried to focus on Tully’s instructions; tried to ignore how badly she wished he’d take those damned gloves off.  _ Stop it _ , Ma’at scolded quietly.  _ You are promised to someone else _ . Never before had that been such a depressing fact. 

“Do you feel it?” Tully asked, his breath stirring the hair that fell over Ma’at’s ears. She hummed some non-committal answer as she fought against the desire to lean against his chest.

“Good.” As abruptly as he appeared, Tully stepped away. A coldness settled over Ma’at, making her crave a warmth that she’d never expected to feel.

Taking up a stance across from her again, Tully reactivated his lightsaber. “Now, try again.”

Over the next hour, Ma’at fought harder than she ever had before. It was peculiar to enjoy such a physically taxing activity, but Tully made her laugh. With gentle correction, Ma’at began to believe that one day, she might be able to hold her own in a fight. Maybe not against her current trainer, but definitely a first year acolyte. 

“I want you to disarm me,” Tully ordered when their blades crossed again. This time, the energy beams sizzled mere inches from their faces. Tully’s green eyes danced with life even as sweat beaded on his forehead. Ma’at left it unsaid that he charmed her with every fluid movement, and how she would gladly watch him train for hours. 

“You’re sure?” Ma’at asked with a teasing lilt. “One afternoon is not enough to keep me from accidently lobbing off your hand.”

With a careful shove, Tully pushed them apart to offer Ma’at a defensive pose. “Then, I would deserve it.” His playful smirk turned serious for a moment, brows pulled together. “I want you to be able to protect yourself.”

Tully’s words sped Ma’at’s pulse, but she swallowed through her blush and countered with a wry smile. “Perhaps I’ve enjoyed having you come to my rescue.”

“I won’t always be around to do so,” Tully answered without hesitation.

“Is that an offer, my new found friend?” Ma’at had meant the sentiment as nothing more than jest until she realized how attuned to this stranger she had become. Though the hundreds of faces that passed by every day, only Tully’s stuck out. Only he called to her.

For a moment, Tully’s posture relaxed, then he sighed. “If only it were possible.” Ma’at’s mouth opened, but before she could voice her astonishment, Tully resumed their lesson. “Now, disarm me. For I fear this will be the last time we can see one another.”

Ma’at wanted to ask if Tully had passed his final exam and was being sent away with a master, but didn’t get the chance. He came at her with a fearosity that had been lacking in their earlier sparring. Something in Tully’s demeanor changed as he rained blows faster until Ma’at’s back pressed against the wall.

Breathing ragged, Ma’at let electricity course through her with enough kick to force Tully back. He gasped, then raised his blade again. Ma’at duck under his arm to put herself inside his reach, then used the Force to shove him away. Tully staggered even as Ma’at chased after him until she could kick his legs from beneath him. It all happened too fast for her to follow. One moment Ma’at felt the exhilaration of victory, the next, her weight drove the air from Tully’s lungs. 

Ma’at stared into vivid green eyes as shocked as her own. “I did it.”

“You did,” Tully agreed, before carefully placing his hands on Ma’at’s shoulders and lifting her off him. 

Ma’at scrambled away to retrieve her lightsaber. She didn’t remember dropping it, but at the moment, all she could think about was how warm his body felt beneath hers. “It’s a shame you’ll be leaving,” Ma’at all but whispered. “You’re a good teacher. Much better than the academy instructors.” 

“I’ll be here a while longer,” Tully replied absently as he gathered his jacket and scowled at the red dirt staining his pants. 

“But you said--” Ma’at paused and looked down at her hands. “Ah, I understand.” After all, Tully was an accomplished student. It wouldn’t do to be seen with the likes of her. 

Squaring her shoulders, Ma’at refused to let him see how badly his rejection hurt. “Thank you again, Tully. I will use your lesson well.”

Before Ma’at could leave, Tully grabbed her wrist. “You’ve become a distraction. One that I can’t afford.” He released Ma’at’s arm with a nod. “I wish you all the best in your future.”

Ma’at started to respond, but couldn’t find the words. Her future looked bleak. She was destined to marry a man who would likely despise her weakness the same as her family had. Tully didn’t need to know how much his generosity touched her, and that she’d hold on to these small moments with him throughout the years to come.

Bowing her head, Ma’at offered her kindest smile. “I understand. Be well, Tully.” She’d mourn the loss of her new friend later.

IX.I

Tuathal could sense her. It was constant, the odd sensation of warmth in the back of his mind keeping him acutely aware of her presence even when he hadn't seen her in almost two weeks. Part of him thought that she might haunt him forever, that some irreversible bond had been formed between them.   
  
Before now, Tuathal didn’t know it was possible to mourn a stranger, and a stranger was all she could be to him. He knew how she looked bathed in moonlight, and what the brush of her Force lightning felt like. What her hair smelled like, and how she felt in his arms.    
  
But, he didn’t know her name, or what future awaited her.    
  
Tuathal wanted to, desperately. He’d never been angry at his mother for arranging his future marriage before, but couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be free to pursue this attraction. This Sith who didn’t feel corrupted like the others around them, this Sith who smelled of warm cinnamon and smiled openly.    
  
Sometimes, especially at night, Tuathal would find his thoughts wandering to her – she was rarely far off – and what it could be like if she was the woman he was going to marry. It was the only time he felt any peace anymore.    
  
Tuathal was so tired of his life being dictated by others, something he knew would happen until he was strong enough to ensure his own freedom. When he found out he was Force Sensitive he never imagined it would feel so much like slavery.

IX.II

Three weeks passed without sign of Tully. Ma’at sensed his presence in a way that hurt and tried to avoid it wherever possible. She no longer traveled to the library for fear of finding him studying, and avoided going back to her secret training room. 

Ma’at threw herself into the challenges Harkun laid before her, and gradually got to know Lord Zash behind the Overseer’s back. Ma’at was certain that she could complete the final task, but wished she felt like celebrating. To make matters worse, Ma’at’s mother had arranged a dinner in which she was expected to meet her husband to be. Ma’at wasn’t ready.

Sighing, Ma’at cleared her datapad of the map Zash had given her and leaned against the wall. Her chest tightened with the sense that Tully was near. Rarely a night passed where she didn’t see his green eyes, or hear the deep bass of his laughter. In those dark hours, Ma’at allowed herself to envision a life with him. She imagined what their children would look like, and how it might feel to fall asleep in his arms each night. Tully would enjoy holding her, Ma’at was sure of it. He’d be gentle, never pushy, and respect her opinion. The perfect man.

It was a fantasy, of course. Tully probably had his faults, but Ma’at was certain that she could live with them. Not that it mattered.

As Ma’at turned to retreat to her dorm, she caught the flutter of a black coat. The man paused, then turned to scan the room. Before Tully could spot her, Ma’at hurried away. Tully didn’t need the distraction, and she had a husband to meet. 

Tuathal fought the urge to fidget under the critical glare of his future mother in law. He had arrived at the restaurant with his mother and a bouquet of fresh violet gloxinia blossoms in a crystal vase. He had tried not to meet his mother’s gaze since she’d identified the variety he had chosen. She was the one who had taught him about flowers and their meanings, after all. Love at first sight, not something Tuathal really believed in, but something he dared to hope for today.    
  
Unfortunately, if the overly serious and haughty woman sitting across from his mother was any indication, he was doomed. On the surface, the Sith Lord looked nice enough, but closer inspection showed a pale woman with red eyes and the tell-tale signs of corruption showing through the makeup she tried to hide it with.    
  
It wasn’t her appearance that concerned Tuathal so much as her demeanor. She obviously wanted to impress his family. She had reserved the entire dining room of the most expensive, and in Tuathal’s opinion, grossly overpriced, restaurant in New Adasta. He knew from his mother that the wealth wasn’t a ploy, she had made sure his future wife came from a prominent family.    
  
Tuathal had no confusion why his future mother-in-law felt the need to impress them either. Tuathal had met enough Sith at the academy to know that power and wealth were most important to most of them. It was why he had tried so hard to excel in his studies. Tuathal was playing catch up, and if he wanted even a chance for a successful marriage, he needed to accumulate as much of both as possible.    
  
Unbidden, memories of golden eyes and soft smiles came to him. If only his future wife could be even half as amiable as the Mari Morgan that haunted Tuathal’s dreams. Then, he could be a happy man.   
  
That’s all Tuathal wanted, after all. Power and wealth meant little to him, while happiness was everything.    
  
Glancing at the chrono, Tuathal wished she would arrive soon, if only to spare him the suspense.   
  
Mother would not be pleased. Ma’at was at least fifteen minutes late do the planned luncheon with her fiance, and not entirely by accident. She’d lingered in the hotel, fussing over her makeup until finally removing it all and replacing it completely. Not even a shower had managed to tame her wild, black curls, and the dress she planned to wear had been wrinkled in transit. Tears threatened to choke her at the knowledge that it was all falling apart before she’d even seen his face.

Ma’at hugged a copy of  “Ancient Sith Battle Tactics” to her chest as she stepped over a withered shrub. It was the same book that Tully had been reading that night in the library, and had taken a lot of work to procure. She hoped that her future husband was as apt a reader as Tully, and that he appreciated her gift. Or at least, didn’t find it offensive.

Ma’at hurried through New Adasta towards the restaurant her mother had reserved. It was obviously a ploy to show their soon to be in-laws the reach of her family’s wallet, and no doubt would work to win her husband’s loyalty. That was the last thing Ma’at needed, a spouse who catered more to her mother, than to their marriage.

Tears welled again until the image of a kind smile and brilliant, green eyes drifted through Ma’at’s mind. Knowing that someone out there had faith in her ability helped to stifle the sob, giving her the courage to continue up the stairs to meet her future. 

Ma’at paused at the doors, hand trembling inches away from the control panel. She didn’t want to do this, to marry a man she didn’t know, to fight for the rest of her days. A part of Ma’at’s mind assured her that he would gain nothing by killing her, no doubt mother had ensured that Ma’at’s dowry remained out of his reach. The other part reminded her that this was arranged for him, too. What if he had already found the woman he wanted to marry. What if he already had a lover?

A new wave of misery washed over Ma’at, making her stomach twist at the thought. She wasn’t clever enough to see through his treachery. Without a doubt, Ma’at would learn of her husband’s infidelity from the local gossip along with everyone else. Then, mother would finally give up on her completely.

Ma’at was on the verge of turning away, of running for as long and far as her legs would carry her, when the door opened. 

“Mistress Stasma?” The concierge asked with a suspicious glare. 

“Yes,” Ma’at answered, then cleared her throat when her voice shook. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was held up.” The man didn’t deem it necessary to comment, simply stepped aside to escort Ma’at inside.

Naturally, mother had chosen the poshest of venues to conduct the final contract negotiations. Ma’at’s heart beat painfully against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Voices drifted through the fragrant air, one familiar, the other kind.

“I assure you, Mrs. Techtmar,” mother clipped in a haughty tone. “My daughter will be punished for this insult to you and your son.”

Ma’at stopped behind a large topiary display, forcing deep breaths while gathering her courage. Mother surely couldn’t do worse than forcing her to marry a man she’d never met.

“Perhaps she is only nervous,” the other woman replied with a laugh. Her accent sounded native, and Ma’at wondered if the woman was as polite in private as she portrayed here. Regardless, Ma’at was grateful for her kind words. “Our schedule is clear today, isn’t that right, son?”

Ma’at straightened, bolstered by the woman’s reassurances. She’d just squared her shoulders when the son answered. “Indeed, and I have waited this long to meet my future wife, a few more minutes change nothing.”

The deep voice washed over Ma’at all at once. Her blood first ran cold, then boiled in her veins. She spun around the barrier, eyes fixed on the perfect features of a man who had made her feel valid while everything else slipped through her fingers. Tully was halfway out of his chair by the time Ma’at registered the presence of her mother and the glamorous woman at his side.

Ma’at felt rooted to the spot until Tully’s mouth opened. She couldn’t be sure if he managed to utter any words before she was moving. Ma’at struck Tully’s chest so hard that it staggered him back, knocking over his chair in the process. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers gripping the back of his familiar jacket as if it alone would keep her from drowning.

Eyes squeezed tight, she whispered. “Please, tell me it’s really you.”

“Daughter,” mother snapped. “Remember your place.”

Ma’at didn’t answer. She’d found her place, but it wasn’t until Tully’s arms encircled her that she fully understood it.

If she hadn’t been in his arms, Tuathal knew he would never believed this was real. It wasn’t until Lord Stasma snapped at her daughter that his mind fully registered his luck. The woman who had haunted his thoughts for weeks, was his fiancé.

“It’s me,” Tuathal whispered back, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “I can’t believe it is you.”

Loosening his hold, Tuathal leaned back to see her face. He needed to view her properly as his mind raced, conjuring theory after theory of how he was hallucinating this, or was mistaken about her identity. However, when she looked up at him with a bright smile, there was no denying that it was her. His  _ Mari Morgan _ .

“Tuathal, aren’t you going to introduce me?” His mother’s voice broke the spell, and he  suddenly felt embarrassed by their public display of affection. 

Stepping  back, Tuathal smiled sheepishly at his mother. “Apologies mother, we are both surprised is all. We have met, in a way.” He turned to the woman standing next to him, “though I still don’t know your name.”

Ma’at smiled playfully, heart still racing with excitement. “Seems we could both say that, you said your name was, ‘Tully’.”

Tuathal’s cheeks flushed lightly as his mother laughed. She stood and moved around the table to approach him. “You haven’t used that name since you were a child,” she said, obviously delighted as she cupped his cheeks in her hands. “My little Tully.”

Ma’at’s heart ached at the fond way they interacted, something she had never experienced with her own mother.

Tuathal allowed his mother to squeeze his cheeks fondly before turning toward Ma’at and presenting his mother. “My lady, this is my mother, Iona Techtmar, and I do apologize if you feel I misled you with my own identity. You seemed hesitant to reveal yours, and I thought it would be wise to pass on a childhood nickname, instead.”

Flashing a smile that made Ma’at’s knees weak, Tuathal took her hand and lifted it to his lips. His hand was warm against her skin, and she couldn’t help but remember how desperately she had wished his hands were bare when he adjusted her stance. The feel of his skin against her’s was better than Ma’at could have imagined. “My given name is Tuathal Techtmar, and it is my sincere pleasure to meet you.” His green eyes sparkled with pleasure as he pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

Feeling her cheeks warm, Ma’at smiled at the gentlemanly way he introduced himself. It was tempting to continue to tease him about her name, and if their mothers had not been present she would have. “Likewise, I am Ma’at Stasma,” she said softly before turning to see her mother’s annoyed expression. “Please forgive my tardiness, I am sorry to have kept you all waiting.”

Before her mother could speak, Mrs. Techtmar swept past her son to get a good look at her future daughter in law. “Think nothing of it my dear, we are just so pleased to meet you finally,” she said kindly, sending a smile toward Ma’at’s mother. “They do make such a lovely couple, don’t they?”

Viola Stasma responded with a tight lipped smile, not as willing to overlook her daughter’s tardiness as her guests were. “Quite. Now that we are all introduced, shall we sit?”

Mrs. Techtmar immediately agreed and returned to her seat. Tuathal followed to pulled out his mother’s chair while Ma’at retrieved the book she had dropped when she flung herself into his arms. To her surprise, he waited for her to return to the table, ready to pull out her chair as well.

With a grateful smile, Ma’at allowed Tully to help her into her seat before he settled in the space next to her. Once he was situated,  Ma’at held the book out to him.“I brought this for you,” she explained, “as a gift.”

Tuathal took the book with a smile and laughed when he read the title. “Are you sure you did not know we were meeting today?”

Ma’at shook her head, causing her curls to whip around her face. If she had known that he, of all people, awaited her, she would have never been late.

“Then, this is a stroke of luck,” Tuathal said, running his fingers appreciatively across the cover, “thank you, Ma’at.”

Her breath caught at the way Tully spoke her name, reverence in his soothing tone that had stuck with Ma’at even as she tried to put him out of her mind.

Tuathal set the book aside and, either not noticing her reaction or being too gentlemanly to comment on it, motioned to the gorgeous arrangement of purple flowers in the center of the table. “These are my gift for you, I do hope you like flowers.”

Ma’at was taken back by his thoughtfulness, the flowers were lovely, and she had assumed they were the restaurant’s centerpiece. A quick glance around the room revealed that the other tables had smaller, less exquisite arrangements.

Returning her gaze to Tuathal, Ma’at smiled. “I adore them, thank you.”

“If you are quite finished,” Lord Stasma snipped, drawing the attention of the table to herself, “we need to get started on the wedding plans.”

Mrs. Techtmar clapped her hands together, “oh yes. Let me show you what I have in mind.” While she pulled out a datapad and passed it over to the Sith Lord, Tuathal leaned over to speak to Ma’at quietly.

“Knowing my mother, we won’t have to decide anything aside of what flavor of cake we prefer and what song we would like to dance to.”

Ma’at laughed lightly, “a bit of a planner, is she?”

Tully nodded before giving Ma’at a look that she couldn’t quite decipher. “I still can’t believe it’s you. What are the odds, I wonder?”

“I know what you mean, I was dreading this arrangement, but I don’t know that I’ve ever been happier to see anyone,” Ma’at frowned, “does that sound awful?”

“Not at all, I feel the same.” Carefully, as if unsure if she would pull away, Tuathal took Ma’at’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I know you did not choose this arrangement anymore than I did, but I shall endeavor not to make you regret it.”

Ma’at squeezed his hand and smiled. “Thank you, I shall do the same, but I do have one important question.”

“Just one?”

“Yes,” Ma’at said with a smile, leaning slightly closer to him. “Can I still call you Tully?”


	4. The Compromise (Ma'at/Tully)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma'at brings up a touchy subject, and Tully's answer surprises her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, the timeline will become wibbly-wobbly, but this one is fairly on track. These two are the fluffiest Sith I've ever met, and I'll not apologize for it. :D
> 
> Word Count: 1573

Ma’at took a deep breath before entering the room. Tuathal sat behind a desk in the back of the library with the chair pushed back and legs crossed at the knee. Ma’at nearly missed a step when lust and apprehension overwhelmed her. Tomorrow evening, they would marry. Both had achieved the title of Sith Lord, thus fulfilling the requirements set by their parents.

There was no greater match in all the galaxy. Tully was strong, painfully handsome, and the kindest man she’d met. Ma’at knew that the stern facade he wore in public hid the playful man inside. Gods, how she adored his smile and the way those emerald eyes blazed when he laughed. Tuathal had never tried to change Ma’at’s stance against needless violence. He’d steadfastly offered suggestions to keep her from incurring the wrath of vengeful Sith, but never scoffed at her ideals. For his patience, Ma’at would love him eternally.

Love rarely factored into marriages such as theirs, however. Ma’at worried that being bound in matrimony might tarnish their friendship. She’d never trusted another the way she did Tully. Never considered that it was possible. But, since the day she’d stumbled into him at the academy and learned who he was, Ma’at had been intent on getting to know her would be husband. The friendship that sprang from that time together had surprised them both.

Ma’at lingered in the shadows, watching Tuathal. Her parents had been allies before they were wed, and now they only saw one another twice a year. Father had moved to a second home when Ma’at was ten. When she asked why, his answer came with a laugh.  _ So that I don’t strangle your mother in her sleep, little one. I assure you, she does not miss my absence _ . 

Ma’at sighed. She didn’t want to despise Tully. It would break her heart to see those beautiful eyes fill with hate when turned on her.

“Ma’at?”

The Sith looked up to find the concerned expression on Tuathal’s face. More than a year of close proximity and shared meditation had linked them. He always knew when she drew near. Taking a steadying breath, Ma’at compelled her feet to move. She’d nearly reached the desk when Tully placed both feet on the floor and set aside the datapad in preparation to rise. Ma’at stopped him. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Tuathal leaned back in his chair with furrowed brows. “When have you ever bothered me?”

With a chaste smile, Ma’at gathered her skirts as she stepped around to lean back against the surface of the desk. She chewed her lip, fingers drumming against the edges where her hips rested, while she collected scattered thoughts. Her fidgeting didn’t appear to ease Tully’s apprehension. His voice sounded tight when he spoke again. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

Ma’at’s fingers paused mid-stroke. “Yes, and no,” she admitted, unable to meet his gaze. “A lot of things change tomorrow.”

“Like what?” Tully’s question surprised Ma’at. She’d half expected to find him pacing the halls, not reading in her father’s library. Tuathal hated state functions, and neither had looked forward to the circus of their wedding.

When Ma’at remained silent, the corner of Tuathal’s mouth lifted. “I’ll still be me, and I’m assuming that you won’t change overnight either.” Ma’at shook her head. “Then, tell me what troubles you.”

To the best of Ma’at’s knowledge, she and Tuathal had been completely open with one another since the beginning. Being from a prominent military family, she’d been stunned to learn that he was just as apprehensive about marrying a Sith, as she’d been about him being a soldier. Now, they could laugh about such petty fears, but Ma’at knew what Tully didn’t. The more powerful Sith they became, the stronger the pull of the Dark Side. Her greatest fear was that they’d one day become the things they hated most. With that came the same corruption that tore her parents apart. A simple, lack of affection.

“Very well,” Ma’at decided. She would say what she came here to say, and leave the rest to him. It was all she could do to ensure that when the time came, Tully was aware that she hadn’t been duped. 

“After our union, our masters will no doubt have tasks to be completed forthwith.” Tully nodded, but didn’t speak as Ma’at continued. “We will be traveling much, I think, and not with one another.”

“I think I know—”

Ma’at held up a hand to silence Tully before he could complete his sentence. If she didn’t get this out now, it would drive her mad. “I just want you to know that I understand. I will not begrudge you for finding lovers, so long as your first born comes from me. I only request that you keep such affairs respectable, and if one catches your fancy, I would appreciate some notice should you take a mistress.” Ma’at’s cheeks burned so hot that she felt the need to fan herself. She hated the idea of discovering from the court gossip that her husband was keeping a lover. “I will not have my marriage run by secrets and lies.”  

Swallowing, Ma’at forced her gaze to focus on Tully. He sat in stunned silence with both brows raised. A few more seconds ticked by before Tuathal took a slow breath. “I had no idea these thoughts trouble you so.”

Tears burned at the back of Ma’at’s eyes, but she blinked them away. This would be the moment she’d dreaded. When Tully informed her that he was Sith, and once she bore his name, had no rights to make demands. That had been the incident that spurred her oldest sister to declare open war on her husband. Ma’at wouldn’t do that to Tully. He was too dear to her, but at least she would know.

Ma’at tried not to flinch when Tuathal stood and gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms. “I hadn’t considered how long we would be separated after tomorrow. Nor had bringing another woman into my bed crossed my mind.”

This time, it was Ma’at’s brows they drew together in confusion. Tully offered a hint of a smile. “I will always respect you as my wife and most trusted friend. Should you seek the comfort of another man in those lonely hours, I will not be jealous.”

“Truly?” Ma’at asked before she could stop herself. She’d never considered the offer being extended towards her. No matter how many mistresses her father took, he’d been furious to find mother with a lover. “What if I became pregnant?”

An unfamiliar pain flitted behind Tully’s eyes for the briefest moment. “We are agreed that the first born should bare my name. But, if that man is good to you, I won’t be angry.”

Ma’at didn’t know how to respond. This conversation hadn’t gone as she expected. It had turned from her preemptive attack on Tully’s assumed infidelity, to setting the terms for an open marriage. How peculiar. Ma’at couldn’t say how she felt about the situation, only that it had merit. It might actually work.

“Then, I propose to you the same stipulation,” Ma’at responded. “Take as many lovers as you please, but be sure that they are good to you, Tully.” She placed a hand to his cheek, then smiled when he laid his over it and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Don’t give pieces of your heart to people who won’t appreciate you.”

“You will always hold the first,” Tully responded. With that, every reservation Ma’at had about marrying this man evaporated. “No matter what.”

Trust. Ma’at never thought to have that in a marriage, but it was their biggest bargaining chip. “We’ll be honest with one another, always, right?”

Tuathal nodded and pulled her hand into both of his. “My duty as your husband is to see you cared for. My desire as your friend is to see you happy.”

Ma’at let out a sound that was half laugh mixed with a pitiful sob. “My duty as your wife is to protect your heart. I won’t let anyone hurt you, so long as you keep me in the loop. And if they do—” she paused to offer a devious grin. “I’ll make sure they never do it again.”

Tuathal laughed and pulled Ma’at into a hug. She knew this sort of connection wasn’t easy for him. Most of the time, physical touch was to soothe her, but she wondered if he was warming up to it too. “We are agreed,” Tully said when he pulled back. “Now go before your mother catches you in here.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t risk her wrath,” Ma’at admitted. She wasn’t supposed to be seen today. Not just by Tully, but by any male. Not until she was revealed at the wedding tomorrow. It was an outdated custom that kept her locked up all day because the females of the house were busy doing who knew what.

Rising onto her toes, Ma’at placed a gentle kiss on Tully’s cheek. “Until tomorrow.” She started for the door, pausing long enough to look back one more time. Tuathal dipped his head, then vanished from sight when she turned into the hallway. Ma’at carried on to her room with a smile. Finally, she felt like things were going to work out, and that no matter what the galaxy threw at them, she and Tully would remain a united force.


	5. Righteous Fury (Ma'at/Talos)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on Rishi, Ma’at was called into her class quest to this strange old guy hell bent on building an immortality machine for Darth Thanaton. Given that she now sits in his seat, that means the project falls under her purview. I loved Talos in this scene for his adamant stance that after everything the inquisitor has been through, this is the LAST thing she needs. It worked doubly well for mine and Keirra's story since Ma’at has romanced Talos instead of Andronikos, making the whole scene so much sweeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where the timeline becomes nothing more than a memory.
> 
> Word count: 828

Talos Drellik could never be considered an intimidating man. It was one of the things Ma’at adored about him. While Tuathal bled power from every pore, Talos laughed easily, often at his own expense, and never tried to contain his hunger for knowledge. He knew that he was a small, unassuming man, and let a quick wit and cheerful disposition speak for him.

Being a powerful Sith Lord herself, no one had understood Ma’at’s attraction a man who was in every way opposite to the average Sith. No one, but Tuathal. When Ma’at had confessed her affinity, Tully smiled and said that he wasn’t surprised. Talos conveyed the same vibrancy that she did, and Tully knew the man’s willingness to share everything from grand findings, to the simple joy of an overturned stone, would draw Ma’at in.

Talos had assumed Ma'at’s advances to be similar to the tricks his brother had pulled when they were young. The surprise on his face when Ma’at kissed him that first time had made her laugh, then Talos had repaid her shock by returning it twofold. He never veered from telling Ma'at when he thought she was making a mistake, and he feared absolutely nothing. So, to see her lover so cross with the man before them, stunned Ma’at to the point of speechlessness.

“You should have been forthcoming with your master,” Talos continued. “Furthermore, I do not appreciate that you neglected to warn Darth Imperius of the machine’s primary function. Had those electric shocks caused her permanent damage, I assure you that we would be having a very different conversation right now.”

Ma’at glanced over her shoulder to see Tuathal leaning against the far wall with arms crossed and an amused smirk in place. He clearly didn’t feel the need to add further threat to Talos’s tirade. She appreciated that Tully never threw his power around as a way to intimidate her lover. Nor did he discount Talos’s advice in a whim. Ma'at offered her husband a bright smile before returning to the argument at hand.

When the old man opened his mouth in protest, Talos cut him off by turning to Ma’at. “My lord, the quest for immortality is what led your own master to such a disastrous end. With your particular history, I would highly suggest letting those machines rust.”

Facing the unexpected castoff from Darth Thanaton, Ma’at gestured to Talos. “You’ve heard my most trusted advisor. Desist all explorations into this technology and focus your efforts elsewhere. I’m more interested in prolonging the life of our Empire than my own.”

“Of course, my lord.” The old man folded liver stopped hands and bowed. “I’ll return to Dromund Kaas and take up one of your other projects.”

Ma’at nodded, then excused herself from the dilapidated building. Once outside in the fetid, Raider’s Cove air, Tuathal clapped Talos on the back. “Wise words, my friend. Someone needs to talk sense into our stubborn Darth Imperius.”

While Ma’at glared, Talos put his hands on his hips. “I do hope that I didn’t sway your mind. Surely, you were already going to destroy those infernal machines.”

To be completely honest, Ma’at hadn’t considered it. Her fingers and toes still tingled from the current, and her mind felt foggy. She was more concerned with sleeping off the excess of whatever coursed through her system than making an imperial decision.

The pause to consider her answer only served to irritate the three men surrounding Ma'at. With a snort from Quinn, an eye roll from Tully, and a stern glare from Talos, Ma’at held up her hands in surrender. “How is it that I, a member of the Dark Council, am subject to such scrutiny by the likes of you. Two of which have no connection to the Force?”

With a charming smile, Tuathal draped an around Ma’at’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Because we all care too much to tolerate any more foolhardy schemes from you.”

“Indeed,” Talos added with an earnest expression that never failed to make Ma’at feel like agreeing to anything. “You are the mother of our children, and dearest companion. Completely irreplaceable.”

Ma’at turned a questioning look to Quinn, who sighed with eyes cast skyward. “My lord Tuathal would be impossible to live with should something happen to his beloved wife.”

Slapping at the stuffy man’s stomach, Ma’at laughed. “I love you too, Malavai.” With a look to the ones most dear to her heart, Ma'at nodded. “The deed is done, and I will no longer attempt to gain power or longevity through artificial means. Now, shall we return to being pirates?”

“Aye, matey,” Talos quipped as he slipped on an audacious hat that he’d purchased from one of the local vendors. The ghastly thing was far too large for his head, but Ma’at found it adorable.

Flicking at the feather that topped it, Tuathal smirked. “Come on, you lot. We have some Mandalorians to parley with.”


	6. A Generous Gift (Tully/Ma'at)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuathal surprises Ma'at with a gift that she plans to get plenty of use out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Tumblr Christmas/holiday starters “What did you get me?” / “I’m not telling you! It’s a surprise.” 
> 
> Word count: 593

Ma’at lounged on her chaise in front of the fireplace. A few months back, Tuathal had surprised her with a book, bound in animal hide, and filled with Sith Lore. Talos had possibly been more excited than Ma’at, but she hoarded the book like a priceless relic. Whenever Ma’at was home, she curled up before the fire and read through the faded pages until she had the stories memorized. Then, she read them again.

The door slid open with a slight hiss, and Ma’at smiled at the familiar footsteps of her husband. Seconds later, warm hands slid beneath her hair, and Tully’s scent enveloped her as he bent forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “Where are the children?”

Turning her face to properly capture Tuathal’s lips, Ma’at hummed. “Talos took them shopping for Life Day, they’ll be gone another hour at least.”

The smile that curved her husband’s lips made Ma’at’s stomach flutter. She returned it, but before she could suggest making use of their time alone, Tully walked around the chair to sit by her feet. Tuathal’s eyes danced as he produced a brightly colored, foil-wrapped box. Ma’at carefully laid her book aside and made to grab for the box. She loved presents, and surprises, and anything that brought a smile to someone’s face. “What did you get me?”

Tuathal pulled the box out of reach with a deep laugh. “I’m not telling.” Ma’at offered a playful pout in response. It still confounded her that she’d managed to marry a man who cherished her so completely. He didn’t mind Ma'at’s clumsiness or antics, simply accepted her quirks.

Shaking his head, Tully held the package out of reach with a boyish grin. “It’s a surprise.”

Ma’at crossed her arms, being sure to push ample cleavage into view. “Then, you’ve come simply to torture me?”

As was his nature, Tully’s gaze drifted, pupils dilating, before he gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well, my love. You’ve convinced me.”

Ma’at had known all along that he planned to relinquish the gift, but the teasing had become a tradition. Tuathal made Ma’at work for her surprises. He’d pretend to second guess, or believe that she wouldn’t like it until Ma’at all but tackled him. Now, she snagged the box when it came within reach and stuck her tongue out in triumph.

Though eager, Ma’at didn’t rip into the paper, but unwrapped it carefully. More so because she knew Tully was more eager for her to see his gift than she was. It was her revenge for playing hard to get.

When the lid finally lifted away, Ma’at gasped. “Oh, Tully.”

Reaching in, Ma’at’s fingers brushed along the finest silk that she’d ever seen. The patterns were exquisite, colors a vibrant mixture of red and greens. They blended together in a way that made the overall effect attractive, rather than boarish.

Ma’at lifted the top, then laughed at how scant the material was. Further inspection revealed a matching skirt beneath. “Shall I try it on?”

Tully leaned back on his elbows at the end of the chaise. “I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t.” Then, he pushed to his feet and held out a hand. “Perhaps I can be of assistance? Those beads looked awfully complicated.”

Taking his hand, Ma’at stood. Given her ample figure, it  _could_  have been an accident when her hip brushed the front of Tully’s pants, but his grin said that he knew otherwise.

Offering an innocent smile, Ma’at sashayed towards their bedroom. “Come on, my lord. I have something for you, too.”


	7. Vicious Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma'at does what she wants now that she's a Sith Lord, and won't take nonsense from ANY of her boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro drabble prompt: crave  
> Word Count: 295
> 
> Everyone waiting anxiously for the arrival of the first born of the Techtmar legacy.

Ma’at became aware of not only Tuathal’s eyes on her, but Talos and Quinn’s as well. “What?” She snipped, non-to-pleased by their open gawking in a restaurant where members of high society might notice. Her position among the Sith was precarious at the moment, and she couldn’t afford to fend off Thanaton and rumors at the same time.

“My love,” Tully hedged. “That is an interesting source of nutrition. I–hadn’t considered those flavors together before.”

Ma’at’s scowl must have relayed how she felt about having her food choice criticized, because Talos patted her hand gingerly. “I’m sure Lord Tuathal was simply taking notes for the next time we visit this establishment.” The two men shared a glance, before Tully nodded with a grin he knew would melt her ire. “The child chooses the craving, am I right, Quinn?”

“Naturally,” Malavai answered, though Ma’at saw the corner of his mouth quirk.

Pointing a fork at each man in turn, Ma’at narrowed molten eyes. “Not another word out of any of you.” Tully’s heir chose that moment to ram his foot into her ribs, and she leaned back with a sigh to rub her distended belly. “That goes double for you.” 

All three men leaned forward in the hopes of seeing any signs of Tully’s unborn child. Nuada had just begun to make his presence known to those on the outside lately, and there was never a shortage of hands reaching for her stomach now. 

When Tully slid his chair closer, Ma’at scooted away. “No, not until you get me more of this.” She held her now empty plate aloft and smirked. “And, you have to taste it.” By the stricken look on her husband’s face, Ma’at knew that he would never question her eating habits again. 


	8. A Lapse Into Stupidity (Tully/Quinn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quinncident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is totally Keirra's brainchild, I'm just pulling it off Tumblr for her. Everything below is hers. So, enjoy! 
> 
> Because I don’t write in order, and everyone writing a Quinn romance has to have their own take on the Quinncident, I wanted to try my hand at my version of it with Quinn and his boyfriend Tuathal Techtmar. 
> 
> Word Count: 3020

Quinn had never been so nervous. Even a decade younger he felt more confident countering the orders of a Moff than he did walking through the mostly abandoned transponder station. Usually walking behind Tuathal, his lord and lover, felt like a privilege. An honor. Today it made him want to be sick because he knew what was coming.

Today he was going to die.

That was not what bothered him so much as how it was going to happen. Quinn was a smart man, he knew a set up when he saw it, and when Baras had ordered him to kill Tuathal he knew the Darth had no confidence in his ability to see the order through. Granted he probably expected Quinn to take advantage of his close relationship with his lord. Poisoning his food, or kill him in his sleep, but Tuathal deserved better than that.

That was when he got the idea of facing the Lord himself. Quinn was realistic enough to know he would lose, but he could make the effort look genuine. Enough that Baras would not follow through on his threats against Tuathal’s family. At least, that was his hope. It would hurt his lord to be betrayed, but if anything happened to the man’s wife or infant son it would utterly destroy him.

Quinn refused to let that happen. He’d rather die. He would die.

That was the plan.

When they reached the room where Quinn’s trap lay, Tuathal stopped and looked around for the signal device they were here to retrieve. Before he could question him, Quinn walked past the Sith and took a steadying breath. It was now or never.

“My lord,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and fixing his gaze on the far wall, “I regret that our paths must diverge. I could not leave you to this fate without showing the respect of being here to witness it.”

He heard the scuff of Tuathal’s boot on the floor as he stepped closer, “What are you talking about? What fate Mal?”

Quinn briefly cringed at the affectionate nickname before he turned to look over his shoulder at his lover. He took a moment to soak in the concerned look in Tuathal’s eyes. He did not like seeing the man upset, but it was a world better than what he knew was coming. “I’ve truly enjoyed our time together, that’s why this is so hard,” he said, his voice cracking. Taking another breath and straightening his shoulders, he turned to face the Sith properly. He was determined to get through this with as much dignity as possible. “This entire scenario is a ruse. There’s no martial law, no special signal emitter. Darth Baras is my master and at his command, I have lured you here to die.”

The color drained from Tuathal’s face as the words sunk in. Quinn could see the concern and confusion in his eyes shift into pain. “But, Mal,” his words trailed off and Tuathal shook his head, “what do you mean? After all, we have been through? After all, you have done for my family? I thought what we had was real. I love you Malavai. I thought you loved you me too.”

For the first time, Quinn wished Tuathal was like most Sith, quick to anger and punishment. Another Sith wouldn’t have spoken, just buried a lightsaber in his chest. It would have hurt less. He wanted to tell Tuathal that he did love him, more than he had ever loved anyone in his life but if he did the consequences would be disastrous.

Quinn clasped his hands behind his back again to hide the way they were shaking from his lover’s eyes. “I haven’t come to this decision lightly, my lord. I never wanted to choose between the two of you, but without Baras I would be nothing. He’s forced my hand and I must side with him.”

Tuathal stepped forward and Quinn instinctively stepped back. Freezing, he frowned. “Please Malavai, don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Whatever hold Baras has on you, we can face it together. You don’t have to serve him.”

“I wish that were so, my lord,” Quinn said softly, eyes dropping to the floor. It was harder than he imagined to see such anguish on Tuathal’s handsome face. He wanted to comfort the man, tell him he didn’t mean any of it but if life had taught Quinn anything, it was that it was never about what he wanted.

“It  _can_ be,” Tuathal said firmly.

Quinn clasped his hands tighter, anything to stop himself from reaching out to the man as he desperately wanted to. He just wanted this to be over. “Baras and I have been planning this for some time, far too long to turn back now.”

Tuathal took a shaky breath, curling his hands into right fists. “If you do this Mal, if you support Baras in his bid for power, you are not just betraying me. You are betraying the Emperor himself.”

“Is that fear I hear my lord?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow at the other man. He’d only ever heard the man sound afraid when concerned about his wife’s safety, when she had nearly died while pregnant and suffering from the ghosts housed in her body. Hearing it again when his life was the one being threatened was surprising.

“It is, but not for myself. For you.” Turathal’s brows lowered into a glare, a spark of anger in his eyes pushing away the pain, “Baras will get his comeuppance Malavai. You were there, you know the true voice of the Emperor has been freed. Even if I die today, Baras will not live much longer and any who stand at his side will be likewise destroyed.”

“The Emperor will do nothing,” Quinn scoffed, his own anger rising to the surface in response to Tuathal’s tone. “He is no better than an absentee landlord and you know it. In my lifetime he has been little more than a figurehead. Baras is trying to fill that void for the better of the Empire. Like any real patriot should.” He paused, taking a moment to regain his composure and took one last good look at Tuathal.

It was time. Quinn was not sure if he believed in an afterlife, or deities, but in that moment he truly hoped they existed and were merciful. Tuathal would understand someday and if Quinn could not spend what was left of this lifetime with him, he had to hope there was something on the other side they could share someday.

He did not mind waiting.

“After all this time observing you in battle, I have an accurate idea of your strengths and weaknesses,” Quinn said, pulling a remote out of his pocket and summoning the two large, custom, war droids he had programmed himself. He didn’t believe they could kill the Sith, but they would give him a good fight and that was what Quinn needed. He had no way of knowing if Baras was monitoring them at the moment but he would have bet his commission that he was. “These droids are programmed specifically to counter your strengths. I calculate a near zero percent chance of their failure.”

Tuathal stared at the droids blankly before turning back to Quinn. “Are you really doing this?”

Quinn swallowed before nodding grimly. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, my lord,” he said, meaning every word and wishing he could say everything he needed to. That this was his fault, and that it would be over soon. That his family would be safe. That he loved him more than anything, enough to die for him.

Raising his blaster Quinn had to remind himself that actions spoke louder than words, and what he was doing now was crying out with his very soul.

* * *

Tuathal felt like someone had opened an airlock to the room. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All he could do was stand there, staring at the man he loved as he raised his weapon against him.

This couldn’t be real? Could it?

He knew the confrontation with Baras had felt Malavai feeling conflicted, but he had been so concerned, so offended on Tuathal’s behalf that he never doubted that if push came to shove Mal would choose him. They were lovers, family. He was the man who had brought his wife’s children into the world, babies Tuathal loved dearly even if only one was his own.

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Tuathal was broken out of his stupor by the burn of a blaster bolt on his shoulder. He glanced at the wound, brushing it off as superficial before looking back at Malavai. His lover had shot him.

Sighing heavily, feeling like his heart was in his throat, Tuathal took his lightsaber in hand. It buzzed and glowed purple when he flicked it on and the familiar sound did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves. This wasn’t right and he was terrified that nothing would ever feel right again.

Blocking a sudden shot from one of the droids, Tuathal couldn’t linger on his pain any longer. Not if he wanted to survive. He was sure that if Quinn put his mind to it he could counter everything Tuathal had to offer. The man was nothing if not thorough.

It was one of the little things he loved about him.

Pushing the thought away, Tuathal sprung into motion.  _I can’t die here_ , he thought as he rushed the nearest droid, slipping around it where it couldn’t fire on him and slashing at the chassis with his saber.

_Not while Baras thought he was winning._

Tuathal pulled his saber back to strike again and the burn of a shot at his back distracted him. The droid next to him spun around, one of its arms hitting his side and throwing him several feet. It hit like a runaway speeder, knocking the air out of Tuathal’s lungs. He gasped for breath while desperately trying to get to his feet.

He managed just before a bolt hit the floor where his head had been.

 _Pull yourself together_ , he thought, mentally scolding himself. The situation sucked, but that didn’t mean he should fall apart like this. Throwing one hand out in front of him, Tuathal Force shoved Quinn, hard enough to knock the man flat on his back and buy himself a moment to focus on the droids.

Returning to the one he had already attacked, Tuathal made quick work of dismembering its arms, where the blaster cannons were mounted, and sinking his saber into it’s power core. The droid collapsed, sparking and sputtering to the ground and he leapt the distance to the other one. His battered ribs screamed at the movement but he ignored the pain, landing behind the droid as Quinn regained his footing.

Tuathal kept the droid between them, taking strategic strikes at it while he was too close to fire at. It took several more hits to make this one collapse, almost as it if had learned from observing it’s twin being dismantled it had done it’s best to keep it’s core out of his reach.

The droid fell at his feet and then it was just him and Quinn. Standing with his back almost against the wall the Captain looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself, glancing between the Sith and the smoking droid cascaras. He still had his blaster in hand, but it wasn’t raised.

Tuathal stepped around the droid and toward Quinn, who in turn took a staggering step backward looking like he was about to bolt.

“Oh no you don’t.” Tuathal growled, crossing the room in a blink of the eye to where Quinn stood. He caught Quinn easily, twisting his fingers in the man’s perfectly pressed uniform and slammed his back against the metal wall.

The pained gasp that escaped his mouth almost felt like a punch to the gut for Tuathal, but the anger he felt colored everything else.

“How could you?” He demanded, almost snarling in the man’s face. “I _loved_  you. I trusted you with my family, with my heart.”

Quinn didn’t answer, he just stared at Tuathal with wide, frightened blue eyes.

“Do you really want me dead?” Tuathal asked, watching Quinn’s throat move as he swallowed. He could feel the pain and fear coming off the man in front of him and he knew it was making it worse saying these things but he needed to know.

Dropping his hands, Tuathal grabbed his lightsaber. Quinn flinched away from him, as though he expected he was about to be killed but Tuathal didn’t activate the weapon. Instead he grabbed Quinn’s hand, curled it around the hilt, and pressed the end against his chest.

Quinn paled and gasped audibly as Tuathal tightened his grip on both Quinn’s hand and the saber. “If this is what you want my love,” he said softly, “then do it. This is your chance to be rid of me.”

Tuathal knew he was taking a risk and part of his brain was screaming at him for it. He had a wife and child to think about. He had Vette, Jaesa and the rest of their assorted, eccentric family. And he had a duty, to rid the galaxy of Baras’ vile presence and avenge the attempt on his life.

The other part of his mind said that if his death would please the man trembling in front of him, he would accept that. Everyone had to die someday but how many people got to die looking into the eyes of someone they truly loved?

This was, after all, partly his own fault. He should have seen it coming, known what would happen. He knew how common it was for members of the Imperial Military to end up the pawns of Sith, pitting against one another in power plays and betrayals. He knew that they were taught to always support the one who looked like they would win, it was the only way to survive.

As much as it hurt to know Quinn didn’t think he would triumph against Baras, Tuathal couldn’t fault him for his doubt. Baras was a Darth long before Tuathal even knew he had the Force.

“Well?” He asked when Quinn still hasn’t responded, either verbally or by taking the chance offered to him. “Are you going to kill me, darling?”

Quinn finally responded, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the side and away from the saber pressed against Tuathal’s sternum.

“I want to hear you say it.” Tuathal tightened his grip on Quinn’s hand slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to be uncomfortable.

Unable to look back up, Quinn answered with his eyes fixed on the floor. “I do not wish to be rid of you my lord,” he said, swallowing hard. “I do not want to kill you.”

Tuathal let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a wave of relief washed over him. He was still hurting, both physically and emotionally, and still furious at both of them but that helped ease it slightly. He stepped away, taking the saber out of Quinn’s hand and returning it to his belt.

As though his movement broke a spell that had been holding Quinn still, he dropped to his knees and Tuathal’s feet and looked up at him pleadingly. “My lord,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his hands shook where they rested on his knees. “I have betrayed you. Conspired with your most hated enemy. I know that expressing my deep regret for my actions is meaningless in the face of my crimes and I do not expect your mercy but may I please request one thing?”

He paused and Tuathal nodded for him to continue.

“Could I please ask that you make it quick?” Quinn asked, his composure finally breaking as a tear escaped his glassy eyes. Just the single tear, but it was more than Tuathal had ever seen from the man before. He wanted to fall to his own knees and brush it away. Kiss it away even.

But even in love, there were limits, and Quinn had drawn the line in the sand and then hurdled across it.

“Get up,” he said after a long moment. “I am not going to kill you, Quinn.” He shook his head at Quinn’s stunned gasp, “despite this lapse into stupidity, I love you. I just… can’t trust you anymore.”

Quinn staggered to his feet, his expression as he looked at Tuathal one of awe. “My lord I’m…,” he paused, searching for the words - something Malavai Quinn never did - “this is so unexpected. I cannot express how deeply grateful I am. Baras would never afford me the same forgiveness.”

Tuathal held up a hand to interrupt the speech he felt coming on, “I don’t forgive you. At least, not yet.”

“I understand my lord,” Quinn nodded, straightening his back. “I would like the opportunity to earn that from you. If you will permit me to stay in your charge, my dedication to you will never come into question again. Though,” his shoulders slumped slightly and his brow furrowed, “I will understand if you do not want me in service any longer or if things are never the same again.”

Tuathal sighed and then winced at the pain that sparked in his ribs. “I will not release you from my service Captain, unless you desire it. Other than that I cannot say what will become of our relationship. One thing at a time Quinn, and right now we have things we should be doing.”

“Of course my lord, lead the way and I shall follow you to whatever end.”

Sensing the sincerity in his words, Tuathal almost smiled but bit down on his lip to stop it. “Just this once Captain,” he said, gesturing toward the airlock, “you go first.”

Quinn looked alarmed for a moment before realization dawned on his face. Tuathal didn’t trust his back to the Captain, not now.

Not anymore.


	9. The Edge of Reason (Ma'at/Tully - nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma'at helps Tully through the pain of Quinn's betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 4157

Tuathal sat in his favorite chair in the study while Ma’at paced around him. She’d dismissed the household staff to give them the night alone. Upon learning about Quinn’s betrayal, Ma'at had suggested that Tuathal meet her at home. He no doubt needed privacy to come to terms with what his lover had tried to do, and Ma’at refused to leave him alone while he did so. Her initial plan had been to fix Tully a nice dinner, then perhaps a warm bath to help relax him. However, the rage and torment she sensed on his approach lent another plan.

Lowering her hand, Ma’at stroked long fingers over Tuathal’s bare chest as she made another pass. His breathing ragged, Tully tried to follow her touch, only to be held fast by the Force she’d wrapped around him. Neither had spoken since his arrival. Ma’at had led him into the library and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off while he watched. The fact that he had neither tried to kiss, nor hurry her actions spoke louder than any words could. Tuathal, her noble husband, couldn’t subjugate the emotions coursing through him, and it set him on edge. That was something Ma’at would not stand for.

Pausing before Tully, Ma’at dipped her hand to stroke him. His head dropped back with a sharp gasp, hips bucking into her waiting palm. The trust he showed warmed Ma’at’s heart. Tuathal hadn’t asked why she bound him to the chair after removing his clothes, and he hadn’t fought to break free. Only to reach her touch.

Ma’at allowed her husband to grind against her hand until his breath sputtered, then she pulled back to leave him shaking. She watched Tuathal carefully, knowing how close to the end they were when his toes curled into the lush carpet. But, his anger persisted. It was a deep sort of self-loathing that had to be drawn out like venom by someone who knew how valuable he was to the galaxy. The art took time and a patience that Ma’at was more than willing to put forth.

When Tully lifted his head, normally clear, green eyes were cloudy with need. Ma’at offered a loving smile, heart fluttering when he locked gazes with her. A silent challenge lay in those dazzling depths. The kind that begged her to make him forget; to love him.

Lowering herself between Tuathal’s knees, Ma’at traced a languid path up his length with her tongue. A low groan escaped her husband’s clenched teeth, the first noise he’d made since arriving home. She could taste how close he was to climax, felt it in the way his thigh muscles bunched beneath her hands. She retreated again.

“Ma’at,” Tully rasped. The sound of his desperation sent a shiver up her spine. It had been torture to touch him for so long without seeking relief for herself. Ma’at had remained clothed, determined to make this night about him.

Without answering, Ma’at brushed her fingers over Tully’s erection. This time, she took him into a firm grip for several rough strokes before pulling back. Tuathal’s breathing hitched, abs contracting with the force of his torment. Truthfully, Ma’at was impressed with how long her husband had lasted, and knew it had little to do with her skill of postponing his release. Tuathal was waiting for something.

When his muscles finally relaxed again, Tully bared his teeth in a feral command. “Finish this, Ma’at.” When she reached for him, Tuathal shook his head. “Not like that.”

Ma’at hiked her skirts to slide into her husband’s lap, remaining just out of reach. “Like this, then?” She asked in a hushed tone. Tuathal’s eyes fixed her with a demanding glare.

With her hands on his shoulders, Ma’at placed her knees in the chair on either side of Tully’s hips and slowly rubbed herself against him. He jerked against the Force bonds that secured his wrists to the top of the chair, but they held fast. Adjusting her skirts, Ma’at reached beneath them to take him in hand and line them up. After such a long foreplay, he slid inside her with no resistance. The sensation overwhelmed Ma’at’s resolve, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinding against him.

“Release me,” Tuathal ordered in a tone so husky it was barely more than a whisper. “I need to hold you.”

Ma’at complied. She’d never hold another against their will.

The moment Tully’s hands were free, one buried in Ma’at’s thick hair while the other pressed against the small of her back. He pulled her tight to his body and captured her lips in a kiss that bruised Ma’at’s lips. His thrusts were wild, uncoordinated. Then, he stilled and buried his face against her neck with a growl so primal that Ma’at felt it all the way to her core. She let him guide her movement, rocking their hips together while he pulsed inside her. Each spasm caused Ma'at to shiver as she neared her own release until at last, she tipped over the edge. Throwing her head back, Ma’at cried out and let Tully’s voice wash over her while he murmured encouragement and held her close.

They stayed like that well after Tuathal had gone soft, simply feeling the warmth of protective arms around them. Ma’at hoped that she’d done the right thing. Tully was always a generous lover, but usually quiet; even reserved. The way he gave himself over to her ministrations tonight was new. It frightened her that Quinn’s betrayal could affect him on so deep a level. More than that, the sudden thirst for the man’s blood who’d torn what little security Tuathal had away from him terrified her.

Ma'at envisioned pinning Malavai to the wall and watching as he struggled for breath. Her fingers tingle with unspent lightning as she imagined the bastard writhing under her attack. Never before has she thought to savor violence the way the image of Quinn’s demise lightened her mood.

“We should bathe,” Tully whispered against Ma’at’s skin as he nuzzled her neck.

Tuathal’s voice was gentler now, closer to the way he normally sounded when they were alone. Pulling back, Ma’at found the set of his jaw less rigid. His eyes were clear once more, and while she’d never be able to erase the deep hurt of betrayal, they weren’t as haunted. “I bought your favorite oils.”

A smile pulled at the corner of Tully’ lips before his arms tightened ever so slightly. “You are too good to me.”

Ma’at kissed her husband gently, then ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “You are worth everything to me. My first love and dearest friend.” Sadness crept back into his gaze even while he forced a smile. Ma’at leaned forward once more to kiss his forehead before scooting out of the chair and holding her hand out.

Tuathal rose, then pulled Ma’at to a stop. “You’re overdressed.”

Ma’at smirked while Tully removed the decorative top that she reserved only for their time together, then slid his fingers into the waistband of her skirt. He let out an appreciative breath as she stepped out of the fabric pooled at her feet. Only then, did Tuathal allow Ma’at to lead him out of the room, ignoring the pile of clothes they left behind.

Tuathal lowered himself into the overly large tub and sighed as he leaned against the porcelain side. Ma'at winced at the bruise that stretched from Tuathal’s shoulder all the way to his hip. It was a reminder of the battle he’d fought against a man who should have protected him.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Ma'at calmed herself to ensure that her anger didn’t bleed through there connection. Tully had finally relaxed, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his moment of peace. “How about a massage?” She asked in a chipper tone.

Tully glanced over his shoulder. “Thought that was my job?” It was true. Tuathal gave the best messages. His hands had been absolute bliss during her pregnancies.

Brushing damp hair away from his face, Ma'at smiled down at her husband. “It is. But, but I thought to try my hand at it,” she responded as she settled on the edge of the tub.

Tuathal took Ma'at’s fingers in his and kissed her wrist with a light chuckle. “Your hands have had their way with me long enough. Join me.”

“Well, when my lord commands…” Ma'at cut off when a pained expression clouded Tully’s features. No doubt Quinn used a similar title. Blast, she’d need to be more considerate.

Forcing a smile to cover her slip, Ma'at sank into steaming water to press her back to Tully’s chest. His arms wrapped around her waist as he leaned them both deeper into the water.

They drifted in silence until Tuathal took a deep breath. “Tell me what to do.”

Ma'at did her best not to flinch. This was the real purpose of their meeting, to discuss how to handle Quinn’s actions. Pulling his arms tighter, Ma'at steeled herself to face her husband’s demon. “How did you leave him?”

This time, Tuathal projected resignation instead of rage. “He’s on the ship under strict orders not to leave.”

Ma'at looked behind her to find that Tully wouldn’t meet her eyes. “He’s not in the brig?”

Keeping his gaze averted, Tuathal shook his head. “I’m not ready for the crew to know.” His jaw worked before he continued. “I should have seen it. All the signs were there, but I let my affection for him blind me.”

Ma'at turned to face her husband, careful to put her knees between his without causing pain. Placing her hands on his face, Ma'at forced Tully to look at her. “This is not on you, my love. We are both victims to the whims of small minded masters.”

Tuathal didn’t respond, but his gaze remained on hers. Ma'at sat back on her calves and dropped her hands to his thighs. “Shall I dispose of him?” The tired laugh that shook Tully’s body surprised her. She scowled. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Tuathal answered. “And, I love you for it, but no.”

Tully pulled the plug, then started to rise. “I’ll change the codes to my room and keep a healthy distance for the time being.” He offered Ma’at a hand before pulling her up with him. “There is far too much happening within the Empire to sort through this mess immediately. I need time to think.”

“I think that is wise,” Ma’at agreed as she handed her husband a towel. At least Tuathal planned to hold Quinn at arm’s length for the time being, though she’d be happier if a more severe punishment were put into action. Seeking a happier subject, Ma'at smiled. “If you like, I’ll have Nuada brought here tomorrow. We can take a few days of peace.”

Inhaling deeply, Tuathal nodded as he draped his towel over the tub. “I like the sound of that.”

Ma’at followed Tully from the room to watch him slump naked in the bed. He didn’t appear to be bothered by his wounds, but those often hurt the worst after they’d had time to stiffen. He’d be sore in the morning, leaving Ma’at to deduce that it might be better to bring their son home in the early afternoon.

Tuathal found a comfortable position under the blanket before pulling them back in invitation. Ma’at smiled as she settled next to her husband and let him wrap her in the soft fabric. With his head on her chest, Tully’s arms created a cage from which she had no desire to escape. They were safe in each other’s arms. While pieces of their hearts might belong to others, it was respect and understanding they fueled her love for Tuathal Tecthmar, fearsome Emperor’s Wrath; doting husband and father. No one would ever sever their bond.

Within moments, Tuathal’s breathing took on the slow cadence of sleep while Ma’at ran her fingers through his still damp hair. She thought of the man who delivered her children; a man whom she’d trusted to protect her husband both body and heart. In a single act of betrayal, Malavai Quinn had wounded both. Though Tully’s wishes would always come first, Ma’at had no intention of letting this slight against her family go unanswered. She would catch Quinn alone. Then, they would have a long chat about what it meant to betray a Sith.


	10. The Truth Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma'at confronts Quinn about his poor life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't let Ma'at leave well enough alone. It's not her style.
> 
> Word Count: 1380

_The Fury_  had never been off limits to Ma’at. She waited until Tuathal descended to the planet before stalking up the ramp alone and activating the airlock. Jaesa had informed her that Quinn had been left behind, and the young apprentice managed to maneuver the rest of the crew so that they wouldn’t get in Ma’at’s way.

As expected, the man in question stood by one of the ship’s terminals running diagnostics. Ma’at had always appreciated Quinn’s dedication to the ship’s integrity, but now she couldn’t help but be suspicious of his actions.

Quinn turned at the sound of Ma'at’s approach. His eyes widened when her lip curled in disgust before a veil of sadness darkened his gaze. “I’ve expected this visit for some time, my lord.” Setting the datapad aside, Quinn took up a position of parade rest and squared his shoulders. “I am ready,” he continued with a nod towards the lightsaber that Ma’at didn’t remember activating.

Thumbing the switch, Ma’at allowed the energy weapon to slide back into its housing. “I need no blade to dispatch you.” Quinn winced at the venom in her tone. Even Ma’at struggled to believe that those words had issued from her mouth.

With hand outstretched, Ma’at threw Quinn against the wall while she stalked toward him. “We let you into our home, trusted you with secrets, and my husband offered you his heart.” Her fingers twitch, and Quinn’s hands went to his throat. “I demand an explanation,” she growled. “And, I am not so easy to please as Tuathal.”

Just as quickly as she’d seized him, Ma’at released her hold and let Quinn fall to the floor. He gasped, then pushed himself into a kneeling position and stared at the floor. “I have no excuse for my actions, my lord. I—” he paused as his jaw worked, and Ma’at felt the guilt, rage, and anguish rolling off him in waves. While she did not share as strong a connection with Malavai as Tully, they had become dear friends over the years. This treachery went so much deeper than one lover betraying another. It put their entire family in danger.

Ma’at called on the ghosts who invaded her sanity. She knew the moment their presence became known because what little color remaining in Quinn’s face drained. “You mistake me for my husband,” Ma’at stated in a flat tone. “Were it not for the affection Tully bares you, and his wish that you not be harmed, I’d see you splintered against that wall.”

Ma’at had never given herself over to such rage before, and in truth, feared that she might be able to pull back. Disgust mingled with her other tumultuous emotions. “I do not care for your humility, nor the noble desire to see your grave.”

Lightning arced between Ma’at’s fingertips as she took a step closer. Quinn’s breath rose and fell in rapid pants, but he did not flee. As she stared down at the kneeling man, unwanted memories of his aid during the carrying and delivery of her children threatened to snuff her anger. All the times when he’d kept her confidence, or aided Tully in a major win. How he taught Tuathal to hold their son. Ma’at couldn’t deny the fondness that she felt towards a man she’d never imagined to have in their lives.

Logic overrode Ma’at’s bloodlust and allowed her to call back the ghosts who strained for release. With a shaky breath, Ma’at fell to her knees before an old friend. The concern in Quinn’s eyes when he met hers was all she needed to realize that there must more. Her fury evaporated so quickly that it left her weak.

“Please, Malavai.” The man winced at the use of his given name. “Help me understand why you’ve done this thing.”

Ma’at grimaced when Quinn looked away. “I’m not leaving without an answer. Tuathal was dumbstruck, but I am made of more stubborn stuff.” That caused a corner of the man’s mouth to twitch for a fraction of a second before schooling his face again.

“Baras is my first master, and while I live, he can still use me against your family.” Quinn spared a glance at Ma’at, allowing her to see the pain in his gaze.

Ma’at tilted her head as she considered Quinn’s words. He’d always been brilliant at turning a phrase. Even though the entire crew knew of his relationship with Tully before it became official, Ma’at had found the double entendres entertaining. She sensed that he was playing a similar game now, only Ma’at had no patience for it. “Speak plainly, Malavai. Tell me the exact hold Baras has over you.”

“I am the threat, my lord.” Quinn finally looked up. “Kill me, and spare your family Baras’s hold. He will find other agents, but he has yet to discover where the children are kept, and—”

Ma’at shot to her feet so suddenly that Quinn flinched away. “Has he made threats against Tuathal’s heir?” Quinn’s hesitance ignited her anger once more, and she used the Force to snatch the man to his feet.

Quinn gasped when Ma’at balled her fingers in the front of his dress jacket. Though she came no higher than his chin, Ma’at had learned to through her weight around long before she could rely on the Force. “Is Nuada in danger?”

“He doesn’t know which boy is which,” Quinn answered in a steadier voice than Ma’at expected. “So, he will destroy both if that is what it takes to remove the Wrath from power.”

Ma’at released Quinn to pace while she considered this new information. Pausing, she looked back at the man who had resumed a soldier’s stance. “He tried to use you to do this?” Quinn gave a sharp nod. It was clear that the topic unnerved him. Ma’at continued verbal deduction without paying his emotions heed until she reached the final conclusion. “You planned to die on that station, didn’t you?”

“I failed to calculate Lord Tuathal’s compassion,” Quinn admitted with a hansom blush.

Ma’at waved his explanation away. “His affection, you mean.”

Pressing fingertips to her temples, Ma’at took another breath as the last vestiges of her anger slipped away. It stood as a stark reminder of why she hated senseless violence. Instead of first seeking answers from a man she and her husband both trusted, a man who looked after her children as if they were his own, she’s allowed rage to fuel her into nearly killing him.

“Tuathal must know of this.” Quinn started to protest, but Ma’at cut him off with a stern glare. “My husband should know the monster he serves, and who the man he cherishes really is. Aside from that,” Ma’at turned a sinister smile on him. “With this knowledge, Tuathal will no longer hold back when it comes removing Baras as a threat.”

Patting Quinn on the cheek, Ma’at’s smile grew. “You are about to see what our Lord Wrath is truly capable of.”

Quinn opened his mouth to respond, though the furrow in his brow more than adequately conveyed his confusion. His remark was cut off by the airlock door slamming open and Tully’s rushed footsteps through the corridor. Tuathal came to a stop in the doorway.

Ma’at turned to smile at her husband. “Hello, my love. Finished with your task already?”

“I felt your presence,” Tully answered with a suspicious look at Quinn. Ma’at didn’t miss the way his eyes glided over the man to ensure she hadn’t permanently harmed him. She doubted that her offer from that fateful night had slipped his memory. Once satisfied with Quinn’s well being, his gaze settled on Ma’at once more. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Ma’at knew it for the question he’d intended, and hoped to ease his fears. “Malavai and I were simply catching up. He had some information on the children’s health that he wished to share.”

Tully lifted a brow at the man, who bowed his head respectfully. Quinn stared at Ma’at for a long moment before resigning himself to the fact that she would not give up. With a sigh, he returned his attention to Tuathal. “My lord, it appears that I’ve left out intel of grave importance pertaining to the events on the transponder vessel.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative writing project between Keirra and Cinlat. Some of these pieces have been posted separately both here and on our tumblr blogs.


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